This blog is about the world of magic and the way we believe in it, what reflects itself everywhere. I, being a philologist, would like to explore the reflection of witchcraft in literature and folklore of different nations. Ready for a witchy literary adventure?

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Monday, 1 April 2013

Drink to Being

Today is the first day of the 4th blogoversary of Magaly Guererro's inspirational "Pagan Culture". This event has got a very intriguing name "Witches in Fiction... To The Bone". The celebration will continue till 13th of April, and I'm sure it's going to bring many interesting posts to live. I'm very grateful for such idea to mark the event because it will give me a kick to post regularly in Witchcraft and More. Also Magaly will be holding various giveaways in her blog, so there is a chance of winning some nice art pieces and goodies.

Now, let's celebrate! The very first time I saw the theme of the blogoversary, I immediately recollected a greatly suitable episode from my favorite novel "Master and Margarita". I had made few posts about this novel as it has such rich material for exploration and reflection.

The episode I want to talk about belongs to the series of events at the Ball at Satan's. The last moments of the ball were perhaps the most difficult and most terrifying for Margarita. She appeared on the podium in the middle of the room. Then Woland turned up in the very same look he was in the apartment just some time before, wearing dirty night gown, and home slippers, using his sword as a cane to ease his limping. He stopped beside his podium, and Azazello offered something on the tray... which appeared to be... *

** "a severed head of a man with broken front teeth.

Woland called out quietly to the head:

- Michael Alexandrovich -, and then the eyelids of the killed lifted up, and Margarita, shuddering, saw absolutely lively, full of thought and suffering eyes on the dead face.

-
All come true, is not it? - Woland continued, looking into the eyes of the head
- the head is cut by a woman, the meeting did not take place, and I live in
your apartment. This is - the fact. And the fact is the most stubborn thing
in the world. But now we are interested in the future, and this is not a fait
accompli. You have always been a hot preacher of the theory that by cutting off
the head life in the person stops, it turns to ashes and goes into oblivion. I
am pleased to inform you, in front of my guests, although they serve as proof of a
different theory, that your theory is solid and witty. However, because all
the theories are all the same. Among them are such, according to which each
will be given according to his faith. It might be fulfilled as it is! You go
into oblivion, and I will be happy to drink for being out of the ***chalice, to which you turn. - Woland picked up his sword. Immediately head skin darkened and
shriveled, then fell off in pieces, the eyes were gone, and soon Margarita saw on the dish yellow with emerald eyes and pearly teeth, and on the golden leg, skull.
Skull cap sat on a hinge."

Our heroine of course was shocked and terrified, but what happened next, made it even worse. Another guest entered the ball room through the fireplace. It was baron Meigel, a person, known for spreading the rumors about Woland's visit, and therefore considered to be a spy, he had to be executed by the government anyways (here author refers to Stalin's regime). In order to "help" him to avoid such destiny, Azazello insensibly stabbed him into the heart, and blood covered Meigel's starched shirt and waistcoat.

"Koroviev meanwhile put the skull chalice under the spurting, and when it was filled handed it over to the Woland.

- I drink to your health, gentlemen - Woland said quietly,
lifting the cup and touched it to his lips.

Then there was a metamorphosis. The patched shirt
and worn-out shoes disappeared. Woland turned to to wear some black mantle with a steel sword on
his hip. He quickly approached Margarita, offered her the cup, and said
imperiously:

- Drink!

Margarita's head started spinning, she was unsteady, but the cup was
already at her lips, and someone's voice, and whose - she could not make out,
whispered in both ears:

- Do not be afraid, Queen ... Do not be afraid, Queen, the
blood long since gone into the ground. And where it is spilled, already growing
grapes."

The ball at Satan's ends here, but Margarita's venture continues... like our journey into the world of fiction with the next To The Bone post! Just let me find something witchy-nice for you :)

Happy blogoversary, Magaly!

* Skull Chalice image credit - Sergei Tunin.

* *Translation of the Russian text is by me. Not perfect, but hopefully is good enough to understand the idea.

Goodness I am amazed and well a little repulsed (as i had been thinking what to eat/drink for breakfast LOL) this image is so dark and intense it makes my head spin a little like the heroines!! I had never heard of this book so this has been an interesting visit and I'm so pleased I called in, your translation of this part of the novel so you could share something you love was very appreciated - This party Rocks!!!!

I enjoyed your post very much. The chalice is a very interesting depiction of life taking from death and vice versa. This was a super way to begin Magaly's blogaversary. Thanks for the invitation to your blog. Oma Lindacome see me at: http//:yeoldecronesgazette.blogger.com/

I popped over from Magaly's to the bone party, and am enthralled by Margarita's adventure. I'm so glad you reassured us that she finds happiness in the end...things weren't looking so good for her, I thought. As a wine enthusiast, home brewer of honey wine, and avid gardener, I love the mental picture that fills my skull with these words: "the blood long since gone into the ground. And where it is spilled, already growing grapes."

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About Cats

"It is said that in Ulthar, which lies beyond the river Skai, no man may kill a cat; and this I can verily believe as I gaze upon him who sitteth purring before the fire. For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir. He is the kin of the jungle’s lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more ancient than the Sphinx, and remembers that which she hath forgotten." - H.P. Lovecraft, The Cats of Ulthar